


Where the sandstormes go

by BitterChocolateStars



Series: Ms.Red's RvB Au Shorts [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Branding, Kinda, Mad Max AU, it started out as one any way, so if ya see something feel free to let me know, uh im not sure what else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterChocolateStars/pseuds/BitterChocolateStars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This really wasn't supposed  to be how things went. He only wanted to find his sister and go home.</p><p>(my weird sorta/kinda mad max crossover.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not My Problem

You're here for your sister. You remind yourself for the thousandth time as you walk through the dirt paths that pass as streets in this place. Kai was going to be in so much trouble when you find her. Running away to the City of War, what the hell had been running through her head? You found her room empty and her things gone when you came home two nights ago. Only one place she could have gone.

You watch the shadows in this place. It's easy to be ambushed if someone chooses you as a target. The gun you hid made it through the checkpoint at the gate, yet you still feel defenseless in this place. It wasn't called the City of War for nothing. The mad king ruled over this place with an iron fist and an army of 'War Boys'. You've never understood the lure of serving a man that claimed to speak to an engine block as a god. It's whatever really, you decide. You've come for your sister after that this place can be nothing but a faded memory.

As you pass a small building you can hear someone inside yelling. You would have ignored it, it's not your problem, if the man hadn't mentioned a 'young woman in bright yellow rags.'. You freeze in place. Straining to hear his words.

"Son, I told ya this would happen. I told ya not to talk to her." The gruff voice lamented.

"She needed help." A quieter voice spoke up. "What was I supposed to do?" The second voice sounded wearied. You step closer to the building and find a small window to peer into. There is a short older male pacing angrily in front of a younger man trussed up in chains. The younger man is painted pure white, he has yet to receive the black paint of his first kill, nor the colors of his transition into manhood, you figure he's probably roughly around your age. One of the boy's arms appears to be made of metal. You feel a little bad that he's trussed up with it over his head, that's gotta be uncomfortable. He's also wearing nothing but a loincloth. Not your problem, you tell yourself again.

"Ya could have ignored it!" The gruff man snaps. The younger man flinches. "Yer too nice for yer own good. It's gonna get ya killed one day Books. I ain't gonna be around forever ta bail ya out."

You frown. Books must be the kids new name. You know by now that everyone here gets one when they are initiated. You wonder for a moment why his would be Books. It's just a passing curiosity. You think about some of the other war boy's names you've heard called while you've been here. Trigger. Flame. Skindancer. Snatcher. Not anything like Books before. It is not your problem, you remind yourself.

"It's not that easy Sarge." Books argues. "They were going to take her to the nursery."

You've heard stories of the Nursery. It's where the Mad King keeps his wives until he's ready for them. You shudder to think about Kai ending up there.

"It happens Books." Sarge picks up something off the table next to where Books is chained. "You can't save everyone, especially not if the king wants 'em."

Books looks panicked. "Please Sarge, please it won't happen again." He pleads. He straining against the chains keeping him in place. "Don't do this please!" He looks absolutely terrified. Sarge looks ready to cry when he hooks the gag onto the boys face.

"I'm sorry Books. It's the only way I could convince 'em not ta have ya strung up and sent below." Sarge shakes his head. "Ya don't ever want to be sent below." Books has tears streaming down his face. Sarge gives the boy a small hug before walking from the room.

You aren't sure what's happening really, but you're sure you don't like whatever it is. The fear is pouring from the kid in waves as he awaits whatever's happening. You would leave, but the boy inside might know where your sister has run off to. So you figure it would be easy enough to get inside and talk to him. You make your way around the side of the building. You're surprised no one is standing guard. You slip through the door and make your way to the room you think the boy might be in. You open the door wide enough to see if the room is empty. Just as you think the coast is clear the door on the other side opens. You think Sarge has come back for a moment but the man in the doorway isn't the gruff old man. The man walking across the room looks to be in his mid thirty's by your guess. He's dressed like one of those doctors you've seen in the old films once when you were a kid, before the film machine broke. You ease the door closed until it's only wide enough to see the boy and nothing else.

"How are we today Simmons?" The man's voice is gentle. You wonder why the boy, who's real name is apparently Simmons, is so terrified. "Or would you like me to call you by your war name?" The man continues. Simmons gives no indication of answering anytime soon. He just stares blankly at the floor. "It's the first time I've had you in here. Sarge told me it's not your first offence. You must have done something truly naughty to end up in a session with me." He tisks like a disappointed father. He steps into view and you can see the red hot branding iron he's holding. Your stomach knots.

The boy sees it too. His eyes grow wide and he shakes his head frantically. The gag and lack of clothing suddenly make sense. You feel sick. It's not your problem, you tell yourself. You're getting tired of having to tell yourself that. Your problem is missing and goes around calling herself Kai.

"Are you afraid?" The man asks. His voice never changing from it's calm gentle monotone. Simmons nods his head. "Then you must forgive me. You see, you've been sent to me to cleanse the disobedience from you. It can be... a very painful process." The man runs his fingers down the side of Simmons face. "Do you have a preference of where you want the mark?"

Simmons doesn't answer. He makes a noise that you think might be a sob. You want to go in there and stop this. You can't bring yourself to get involved. This isn't your problem. It's not, you keep telling yourself. You've always been a coward Dexter and you know it.

"In that case I think I'm going to place it here." The man informs him. His hand rests gently on his thigh. "It will remind you not to touch something the King want's." The man dictated. He shifted the loincloth away from Simmons thigh.

This is too much. You can't make yourself watch. As much as you try. As soon as the brand touched the boys thigh you squeezed your eyes shut. You can here the boy's screams even as you press your hands harder over your ears to block them out. You don't look again until the boy's screams have stopped. The man is gone. Leaving the boy hanging from the chains. You can tell he's sobbing silently. You look at the angry red brand on his thigh and feel guilt churn in your stomach. You ease the door open and slip inside.

The boy doesn't hear you as you get closer to him. You're just here to ask him about Kai, this isn't your problem. You begin looking for the key to the lock chaining him to the ceiling. The least you can do is unchain him. Then you can ask the questions. Yup, that's the plan. You find the key on a table in the back of the room. After seeing the things on the table you feel thankful the boy only got a brand to the thigh. The people in this city were insane. When you turn back to the boy you're startled to find him staring straight at you. He looks at you with interest, eye's following you curiously. That changes when you get closer to him. His body tensing as you step into his space. His already ragged breathing begins to come in shorter gasps through the gag. You decide to ignore any guilty feelings you may or may not have.

"It's alright, I'm going to get you out of these chains." You whisper to him. He makes a whimpering noise. You take that as an acknowledgment. You unlock the chains and ease Simmons to the ground. As soon as he tries to stand on his own he collapses, clutching at his thigh. You hook your arm around him and pull him up. That's when you hear the cock of a gun behind you. You freeze in place.

"Ya wanna tell me what yer doin' with that boy?" Sarge demands.

"I was helping him." You answer, you turn slowly and get an up close look at the barrel of a shotgun.

"Yer just gonna get him in more trouble." The man points out. "An outsider gettin' in our business ain't gonna be looked on kindly. It's gonna get that boy put right back in those chains, ya ain't got the right to get him in that kind of trouble." He's glaring at the brand as he says this.

You decide then what's gonna happen. You'll probably kick yourself later, but right now you have your arm looped around a trembling boy who looks ready to pass out at any moment. You remember the screams. The tools of torture on the table that tell stories of what kind of punishment gets doled out here. The look of fear on the boy's face. "I can get him out of the city." You hear yourself say. "If he's willing, he can come with me." You may be a coward but you aren't the kind of man that leaves people in the hands of monsters. So much for not getting involved Dex, nice going.

Sarge looks to Simmons. "Well Books?" He asks.

Simmons' has pulled the metal gag from his face and dropped it to the metal floor. He looks at Sarge and you think he might begin to cry. He says quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Aw don't go apologizin', I always knew you'd want to leave someday." Sarge mourned. You suddenly feel like you're listening to something deeply private. "Be strong, and may you see Valhalla one day boy." He touches his forehead to Simmons and pats him on the back. "Be brave son." He releases him and steps back to give you a look. "You better make sure he gets outta here or I swear on my ancestors

i'll kill ya myself dirtbag." He turns and leaves the room. One last look at Simmons before the door clicked shut behind him.

"My clothes." Simmons says. He's pointing to a locker near the door you came in. You help him over to it, leaving him propped against the wall you pull out his things. You find a pair of pants a loose shirt and surprisingly enough a small journal. You pass him the pants and shirt and tuck the journal away in the pack on your belt. Before you close the locker you notice a gun resting on the bottom shelf. You grab that too. A pained hiss behind you brings you back to the situation at hand. You find the boy struggling with his pant's. He keeps pulling at the fabric on his leg.

"Dude really?" You hiss at him. You don't have time to fight with pant's. Someone's going to come looking for the boy soon.

Simmons glares at you. "It hurt's." He nods to his leg where the fabric is rubbing against the brand. You bite your lip in thought. Simmons seemed like the kind of guy that would refuse to go pants less. The only solution is to make the pants into shorts. You grab a knife off the table of torture and try not to think about it's more sinister uses. You come to kneel in front of him. He gives you a scared look as you bring the knife just a bit higher that where you remember the brand being. You try to give him reassurance, but you don't really think the shrug you give him works. He holds his breath as you cut away the pant legs. When your done you fold the fabric and stuff it in your pack. Rule number one: Nothing should go to waste, everything has a use. It's up to you to find it. You've lived by that rule your whole life.

"Thanks." He says quietly. You give him a small smile and wrap your arm around him. You make your way to the front door before you think to ask.

"You know any secret way out, now would be the time to speak up." You look at him and he smiles. It's the kind of smile that says he has a secret no one else knows. You like it. Mostly because simply walking the boy out the front gate seems like an awful idea. That's the only reason. Really.

"My house has a tunnel leading to the carport."

You wonder at that but don't ask. You really don't care enough to. "Where's your house?" You crack open the door and look around the deserted streets for movement.

"The red building at the end of the street."

You find it in seconds. "Alright, let's go." You pull him through the door and onto the street. You stand straight and try to make you and him look as casual as you can. It's relatively easy to get to his house. Well if you could call a metal shack in the middle of War City a house. Your barely fifteen feet from the door when Simmons shoves you into an alley beside the building. You barely get your balance before he smashes his mouth, not on yours, but close enough that you feel the warm breath against your lips. Your brain is silent for only a few shocked seconds before it's demanding to know what's happening. You crack your eyes open and see a patrol of war boy's passing the mouth of the alley. One of the boys

whistles at the scene and they pass without much fuss. Simmons stumbles back and avoids looking at you when he mumbles his apology. You didn't realize someone could blush through white paint.

"It's fine." You reassure him. You don't think about the few seconds you almost leaned forward to meet his lips. You steady him when his leg starts to give out on him. You aren't sure if the brand messed up the nerves in the leg, you aren't a doctor, but you hope it didn't. The boy already had one disability he didn't need another. You chalk up the weak leg on pain and leave the alley.

The inside of Simmons house is impossibly neat and tidy. You understand now why Simmons war name happens to be Books. The things are stacked up nearly to the ceiling. You're kind of impressed. War boy's usually weren't the reading type. Simmons was probably an anomaly in this place. You turn when you hear him stumble somewhere in the next room. When you walk in you realize it's his bedroom. He's leaning over something in the corner and muttering to himself.

"What are you doing?" You ask. You're really hoping this guy wasn't insane. He turns and smiles.

"Here." He tosses you a bag. It sloshes when you catch it.

You look at the bag of water in your hand and frown. "What's this?"

He gives you a funny look. "It's water." He answers like he thinks you've never heard of it.

"Don't be a smartass, I mean why are you giving me water?" He gives you another funny look. You're kind of starting you hate those. It feels like he's starting to think you're an idiot.

"Well if we're going to go look for your sister we're going to need water until we get to the next town." He says carefully. You're almost speechless.

"How did you know she was my sister?" You demand. If this whole thing was some weird fucking set up you're going to be pissed. Well, dead, but pissed. You will haunt Simmons if this is a trap, you vow.

"Seriously? It's not everyday I meet two people who are almost the spitting image of each other." He rolls his eyes. And yeah okay you can kinda get that. You and Kai looked like twins almost. It's an easy guess. It was probably why he trusted you in the first place, you realize. "I just hope you don't show up in peoples beds unannounced like her. Scared the shit out of me." He rambles on. That catches your attention. "What?" You look at him hard.

He stares at you blankly. Thinking over what could have upset you. "Oh!" He says quickly realization dawning on his face. "No, we didn't, uh, we didn't do anything if that's what you think." He raises his hands up placatingly. "She's like, what, fourteen? I'm not into that." He says quickly. "I just found her hiding in my house, she'd fallen asleep in my bed. Weird girl. Uh. No offense or anything. Said she wanted to travel the world. Not sure why. Nothing but dirt and sand out west."

Okay so Simmons doesn't seem like the type of guy to sleep with children. He doesn’t look like the type either, but then again you've meet crazier people that looked like they could've been a Saint. Either way

you're going to have to take his word for it. You sigh. "Shut up." You feel exhausted and you haven't even tried to escape with your new companion yet. You were made to nap all day, not make daring escapes with reject war boys.

You watch him stuff a few things into a bag. You're pretty sure you saw something that looked like an extra metal hand being stuffed inside. "Come on." He says when he's done. He's pointing to a bookshelf on the far wall.

You follow his lead. You watch him pull a book from the shelf. Something in the wall clicks and soon the wall is sliding away to reveal a dirt tunnel. "Pretty cool." You mutter. You step up and loop your arm around him again.

Simmons beams. "Watch your head." He cautions as he steps into the darkness with you.

The journey through the darkness wasn't exciting in the least. You are pretty sure there were bats following you though. You said as much to Simmons.

"There are no bat's." He tried his hardest to reassure you. You can hear them behind you. You try not to panic. Panicking means running, you're pretty sure that's the last thing Simmons can do at the moment. Simmons tightens his grip around your shoulders. It helps a little bit, knowing someone else is there with you.

You make it through the tunnel and into blessed bat free daylight. You look around at all the cars.

"Pick one." Simmons shrugs. You spot a jeep sitting alone in the corner.

"That one." You nod, walking him over to the passengers seat. He climbs in without much trouble. You hope the leg is starting to feel better. You climb into the other side and start the car.

"How long before they notice we're gone?" You ask. You need to know how fast you should make their trip.

"Probably an hour at most. I work at high noon today." He answers. "The King will be a little suspicious if I'm missing."

You really want to ask what his job was. You don't. It's none of your business. You stomp on the gas instead.


	2. Brand Of The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even though it's broken up into chapters, i actually wrote it all at once two months ago around three am, and never got around to finishing it, i wasnt sure what i wanted the end to look like, so i'm going to post what i have so far.

You make great time. When the suns light fades you slow the jeep. The city is long behind you and you don't think they are going to send someone after you.

Simmons is dozing in the seat next to you. He's not all that bad. A little naive perhaps. But he's smart, quick witted and stubborn. You didn't talk much but when you did it was almost comfortable. You learned that he wasn't from the city, Sarge had saved him from being sent to a slave camp. When you asked about where he was from, he shrugged. Either he didn't want to talk about that, or didn't remember. That was fine with you. You told him of your home. A little town out east, you trade in gas and anything else really. You hated that place. You told him about your sister. About the time she nearly drowned in a puddle of water. Simmons laughed at your story's. He told you about Donut, a friend from a town up north. He sounds too cheery for you, but Simmons seems to miss him. The way he talks about him though give you the feeling that Donut might not be in this world anymore.

It's a nice drive none the less. You find yourself enjoying his company.

You shake him awake and tell him you're going to stop for the night. He nods, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Do you want to toss the tarp over us?" He asks.

You nod. Climbing from the jeep. He climbs out on his side and grabs the edge of the tarp. You notice that he's still limping. You can't decide if you should worry yet or not. You've never seen anyone get branded before, and the little angry skull decorating Simmons thigh is a reminder that you don't want to. His screams still echo inside your head.

You help him pull the tarp over and climb back into the jeep. He tells you to take the back seat. His legs are too long for it to be comfortable to him. You agree, because well, yeah you deserve a good nights sleep for this.

You wake the next morning to chaos. Simmons shakes you awake yelling at you to get in the drivers seat. He looks panicked. You climb over the seat and start the car. Before you can do much another car skids to a stop in front of you. You take notice that Simmons has already removed the tarp and tossed it in the back. The driver of the other car is yelling at another man. He points to Simmons who's climbing into the passengers seat.

You wonder for a moment why they would send someone after a runaway war boy. That's all the time you get to wonder. The other car decides the best course of action is to ram you head on. You slam on the gas and go speeding around them, missing the collision by a few inches.

"Why would they send someone after you?" You ask your companion. Because really you were serious about that whole trap thing. You will haunt him

"I- I don't know!" He stammers. You believe him surprisingly enough. He looks genuinely scared.

The car is chasing you. This is bad, you've never been in a car chase before. You aren't sure if these guy's will give up, or if you're going to have to make them.

As if reading your mind Simmons shakes his head. "They're not gonna stop, they've chased men miles into sandstorms before. We're an easy target."

This wasn't what you signed up for. You were going to leave him at the nearest city and continue looking for your sister. You feel like screaming at the sky. "Grab my bag, get the gun and if they get too close, shoot them." You order instead.

Simmons looks like he'd really rather not. He doesn't have a choice though. So he grabs your bag and pulls out his gun. He doesn't look very surprised that you grabbed it.

"You know how to shoot right?" You think to ask. Simmons nods.

"It's easier than the missile launcher trust me!" He yells back. He rolls down his window and leans out to get a look at the car behind them.

"Missile launcher?" You've never heard of one before. It doesn't sound pretty.

The car swerved and rammed into the back of the jeep. You jerk the car to the left to get some distance between you and them. Simmons yelps and nearly topples from the window.

"Fuck!" He straightens out and shoots you a glare. It doesn't last long. The car is nearly caught up with you again. "Go faster!" He yells.

"Fucking fuck!" You hiss, attempting to speed up. It was a waste of gas if you didn't do this carefully.

The car is nearly on you. "Shoot!" You yell at the other boy. There's a long period of silence. You almost think he isn't going to do it. Then you hear Simmons fire the pistol. The sound of a tire popping. He's ducking back in the window and smiling at you.

"That's gonna stop them for half an hour at most, I don't think they have a black thumb with them." The gun is still gripped in his hands tightly. They're shaking ever so slightly. You don't mention it.

"You could have shot the driver." You point out. Simmons looks away from you. "What?" You ask.

"I was going to..." He trails off.

You aren't leaving this one alone. "But?" You ask.

"I've never shot anyone." He says quietly.

You think this might be the second time he's genuinely surprised you. "Seriously?" It was pretty rare for someone to have that kind of innocence in this day and age.

"I wasn't allowed to leave the city." He shrugs. There's more to that you think, but for now you leave it.

It takes you until sunset to make it to the next town. A shitty little place called Sangheili. Your friend Tucker lives here with his son. As you pull up to the gate Simmons is going on about how he's never seen another city before. You frown, but can't make yourself say anything. They guy sounds excited. So you let him keep the excitement, no matter how annoying it is. He follows you to Tucker's house, has to really, he's still limping and if he wandered off he'd only hurt himself. Muttering to himself and writing things down in the journal he'd taken back from you, he reminds you of a puppy almost, it's kind of cute.

So you hadn't thought about it. You really should have seen it coming. The mad king and his war boy's aren't well liked outside their city. So when the first thing that happens after Simmons steps into Tuckers house is a gun leveled at his face, you aren't really that surprised. You kinda forgot that Simmons probably isn't that pasty without the white paint.

Simmons stumbles back into the wall, journal dropping to the floor he raises his hands above his head. The robotic one is having uncontrollable nervous spasms. He gives you a frantic look.

"Put it down Wash." You tell the blonde on the other end of the gun.

"Why is he here? What are you doing with a war boy Grif? I swear to god if you put Tucker in danger I'll-"

"Shoot me. I know, we always have this talk when I come by." You roll your eyes. "He's not a war boy anymore... actually I'm not sure if he was one to begin with." You point out.

"I really wasn't." Simmons pipes up. "So please put the gun down." You can see his leg start to tremble. Wash sees it too. He lowers the gun.

"What happened to your arm?" He asks. You don't think you've ever seen someone with worse manners than you. It'd be impressive if the blank look on Simmons face didn't creep you put more.

Simmons shrugs. "I don't remember. Lopez said it was gone when they found me."

An amnesiac? Wonderful. So you guessed right about him not remembering where he was from. You absolutely do not wonder about his past. That would mean you were interested. You aren't.

"Right. And your leg?"

Simmons looks down at his leg. "Uh, I... Disobeyed orders." His voice quivered. You can see the memories play out on his face.

You really can't stand that look on Simmons face. "Look, I'll explain everything, just let the guy wash that shit off."

Wash nods towards the adjacent room. Simmons limps away muttering his thanks. As soon as he's gone Wash is in your face. "Explain. Now." He orders. You pick Simmons journal off the floor and tuck it once again into your pack.

"Where's Tucker and his freak of nature?" You ask looking around the empty room.

"Out. Quit stalling. Tell me about this war boy I've willingly let into my home." Wash seats himself at the kitchen table.

He's right, you can't stall forever. You could try, but that would probably get you punched in the jaw... again. "Look, he saved my sister from the nursery." You see the way Wash freezes up. Yeah, even Wash knows about that place. The kind of nasty shit that happens inside. "I found him chained to the ceiling after getting branded by some sick fuck." You won't admit that you feel guilty about it. "So I figure the least I could do was get him out of there." You shrug.

Wash still hasn't moved. "What do you mean he got branded?" He asks quietly.

You try to read the expression on his face, you can't. "He has a brand on him? A little skull." You suddenly feel very defensive. "Why?"

"Are you sure?" Wash demands. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yeah. You want to tell me what's going on?" You demand right back.

Wash ignores you in favor of ordering to see it. Fucking bossy asshole.

"You can't just go barging in on people while they shower Wash, not even your paranoid ass has that much disrespect." You also aren't sure if Simmons has any panic triggers, and setting a guy off in the shower seems rude as fuck.

Wash rolls his eyes at you. "Oh shut up Grif, last time you were here you walked in on me and Tucker in bed for a bottle of water you left inside. So me asking to see the brand isn't that rude."

"Dude you aren't getting it." Were you going to have to spell it out for him? "It's a bad idea to go barging in on people who are taking a shower." You honestly don't want to. It's too much like admitting you care.

Someone clears their throat. Your head snaps towards the sound. You barely recognize him, wouldn't have, if it wasn't for the eye's. Simmons is, despite your best efforts not to think it, very cute. Under the paint his body is covered in constellations of freckles. His hair, now free from the white dye is the color of flames. His pale face flushes under you stare.

"It's right here." Simmons says. It takes a moment before you realize he's answering Wash's question. He gestures to his thigh.

Wash stands to get a better look. You see the way Simmons tenses and feel a bit bad about not warning him about Wash before you got here. The guy could be so hard headed sometimes. Wash kneels down to get a look at the brand and Simmons light flush burns away to crimson. Wash swears when he sees it and is soon pacing the room. You can't tell if he's pissed or not since angsty rage machine seems to be his default.

"Why does it matter if it's a skull?" Simmons asks. You can hear the anxiety lacing his every word.

"Holy shit kid, how long were you in that city?" Wash asks. He hasn't stopped pacing but it has slowed. Simmons shrugs.

"Since Sarge found me." He says. Waving his metal hand when he thinks about it. "So maybe a year, maybe less?" He sounds so unsure about it. You have so many questions for this strange boy, this is just another one to add to the pile.

"Okay, so not that long. What job were you assigned?" Wash asked.

"Oh, uh, my job was writing down whatever the king told me to I guess." Simmons stammers. He looks to you for some sign as to why Wash is interrogating him. "I was one of the only war boys that could read and write well enough for the job..."

"Record keeping." Wash says flatly. "You were. A record keeper." He repeats to himself, he's stopped his pacing to stare blankly at the wall. You think he might have had a stroke. "Are you two idiots!?" He suddenly yells. Simmons flinches back so hard he hits the wall behind him. "You think he's just going to let someone with information like that walk away!? And on top of that you now bear the mark!"

"What does that mean?" You ask. Seriously, this was why you never visit. Wash was one cryptic mother fucker when he wanted to be.

"It means that rebel war boy over here is his property!" He snaps. He pulls at his hair. "He will never stop hunting you down." He says to Simmons.

Simmons makes a distressed noise. "N- No. I mostly just babysat his son! I don't even remember half of what I wrote down for him!" He chokes. "I don't want to go back." He shakes his head. "I don't-" He edges towards the door. You can see the urge to run written in the tense lines of his body.

That's a terrible idea for someone who can barely walk on their own. "Dude, it's fine. Hey don't-" Before you can stop him he's out the door. "Great!" You snarl. "Wonderful agent asshole. Send the fucking kid into a panic. That's just what he needs!"

"You're right. What he needs is to realize the situation he's in."

"Dude! He's never even shot a guy before. So sorry if he's a bit shocked to find he's someone's property!" You snap. You aren't sure why you're so pissed about this. The terrified look on Simmons face before he took off is probably it. Whatever happened to this not being your problem?

"There's no way." Wash groaned.

"Told me himself. Even had a chance to shoot a guy, shot his tire instead." You retort. "Hell you should've seen the way his hands shook just firing a gun in the direction of a person. Kids as innocent as a newborn."

"You sure know how to pick your fucking friends." A new voice pipes up. Tucker and Junior are standing in the doorway. Tucker has a grin on his face the size of the mad kings castle. Junior bolts for you, you wrap him in a hug.

"Man, about time you showed up." You've missed them.

"Missed out on meeting his new boyfriend." Wash mutters.

"The one you apparently chased out of the house?" Tucker asks. "Saw him hobble away from here pretty fast. What happened?"

"Okay first of all, barely met him yesterday, not my boyfriend. Secondly your boyfriend gave him a panic attack telling him the guy's from War are never going to stop hunting him down."

"Because they aren't, Grif." Wash sighs. He sounds tired of this entire situation. You can sympathize. It was so much easier when you were just looking for your sister.

"How would you know?" You demand.

"Because they only stopped hunting me down after they thought I died!" He hisses.

You're silent for a moment. You knew Wash had been in some deep shit before you and Tucker found him. But this was really too much. "I need to look for Simmons." You say finally. "He can barely walk. He's going to get himself hurt." You shove your way past Tucker and out onto the street.


	3. Falling in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one get's by in this world with their innocence, it just takes longer for some people to lose it.
> 
> SO every one is still fairly young in this verse.   
> like late teens early twenty's.

You can't think. Can't breathe. All you want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. This isn't how you wanted life to be. Ever since you could remember you've had the feeling that there was something you needed to do. Not that you remember much before meeting Donut and the little town up north. They pulled you out a fiery wreckage in the middle of the desert. A guy there, Lopez, patched up your arm. He couldn't do anything for the blank spot in your memory. You were the only one in the town that could actually read until you taught Donut. He helped you out in so many ways. Helped you remember so much about yourself. Mostly your name. He spent a long time calling you by random names until Richard felt right. You made up your last name, there was no way Donut would guess one that was once yours, it was easier to make it up. You keep a journal with you now just in case you forget anything again. You write in it obsessively, afriad to miss something that might be important. You've filled two pages alone with things about Grif. He's important, you know that already. You don't want to forget him.

"You okay?" A gentle voice asks from your right. You jump. A woman looks at you concerned. It takes you a moment to realize there are tears dripping down your cheeks. You quickly wipe them away.

"I'm okay." You lie. You're a terrible liar and you know it. You are in no possible way 'okay'. Today has been the third worst day you can remember ever having. You're hoping she doesn't want to stay and talk about it. You've never had a good track record talking girls. As in you can't. You aren't sure why.

"Right, and I'm not related to Church." She snorts. "We all have our dreams don't we?" She leans against the wall next to you. "You new in town?" She asks.

"Uh I... yeah. Kinda." You say quietly. You can see her give you a funny look from the corner of your eye.

"I'm new here too. I've been here a month and it never get's any less weird staying in one place." She says. You wonder why she's telling you this. This woman you've never met before. "You wouldn't happen to be friends with Grif would you?" You perk up at his name. "That's what I figured. Idiot wouldn't be able to find his head if it wasn't attached. Well, I have to give you some credit, you are pretty nimble to get up on this roof. I'm not surprised he hasn't looked up here." She chuckles. "He's been looking all over town for you though. He's worried."

You feel guilty. You didn't mean to make him worry, but you're apparently dangerous to be around. "I think I should leave." You whisper.

The woman looks at you questioningly.

"I'm just going to get people killed." You explain. You rub at the mark on your thigh, it hurts when you touch it. You hate it. You hate the place it came from. You hate yourself for getting into this situation. For putting people in danger. You just want to go back to that little town up north. Before the Raiders came. Before Lopez and Donut got shot. Before you were dragged away from them and tossed in the back of a truck. "I'm not safe." You tell her. It's true. Since you woke up all you've ever brought people is misery. You don't want that to happen to Grif. He saved your life. You owe him.

"Neither am I." She says simply. "You think I lived this long by being safe? If anyone get's killed it's because they let themselves be killed." She looks at you hard. "If someone's willing to help you, then you should accept it. Cause there aren't many people left willing to help you in this world." She walks toward the edge of the roof and jumps.

You sit up there a few moment's longer. You've already been up here for a couple hours, what a few more minutes. When you decide you can't possibly stall any longer you take a steadying breath and follow after the mystery woman.

As soon as your feet hit dirt the world explodes into chaos. Literally. You stumble as the earth rocks under your feet. You jump when you feel a hand steady you. The woman is standing beside you. "What's happening?" You ask.

"That sounded like it came from the gate. Come on!" She hauls you from the alley. You can hear people screaming. Oh god. Please not again, you plead silently. You both break into a sprint.

You can smell fire, see smoke. It's like up north all over again. You nearly stumble when your leg starts to feel like it's being set on fire but the woman shoves you into action. You make it just in time to watch the gate fall flat and a trio of cars pull into town. The woman shoves you behind her, she keeps shoving until you're tumbling through a door and into someone's waiting arms. You look and find Grif frowning at you. He helps you stand and drags you further into Tucker's house.

"What's happening?" You whisper. Grif shakes his head and puts a finger to your lips. Outside you can hear men yelling. Demanding you found. You feel sick. Grif drags you into a back room and you watch as a hatch opens in the floor. Someone, you assume is Tucker, is waving at you to hurry the fuck up. Grif nearly shoves you down the stairs. Asshole, you know he's worried but he doesn't have to try to break your neck. You find a young boy around ten years seated on a crate near the back of the room. He smiles at you. You smile back despite the panic rooted in your chest.

"Wash has the jeep around back right?" You hear Grif ask. You hate the sound of panic in his voice.

"Yeah, Church is waiting with his own, Carolina is coming with us." Tucker answers. He sounds calm as can be while something explodes overhead.

"Right we need to go Now." Grif grabs your arm and pulls you toward the crate that the boy is seated on. "Move Junior." Grif orders the boy. The boy slides off the box and Grif lifts the lid. Inside is a ladder descending into darkness. Grif motions Junior down first, followed by Tucker. Lastly he looks at you. "Go."

You shake your head on instinct. You don't know why but the thought of climbing into the darkness frightens you. You don't think you can do this. "I can't." You admit.

"Now really isn't the time to argue with me on this Simmons." It's the first time he's called you by your name. Your real name. You hadn't realized it until now, but you missed it. "I'll be right behind you." He says. He gives you a little shove. You swallow and swing your leg over the edge. As you descend you look up and see Grif climbing in. "It's going to get dark!" He calls down to you. The echo of the lid closing nearly has you freezing right there. Only the thought that Grif also needs to get down the ladder makes you move.

When your feet finally hit the dirt you take three steps from the ladder and pause. It's almost like you're blind. You know your eyes are open but you can't see. It's like the first time you stood in the pit. Feeding duty, they'd called it. You took a bucket full of slop down the ladder with one of the older boys. Leave it at the edge of the darkness, they told you. Do not go any farther than that. You did as you were told. You put the bucket down and stepped back.

"-ey."

The boy you were with, he'd been doing this job longer than you. He placed his bucket down and stayed in place. You asked what he was doing. "Why do they make us stay back? What's in the darkness?" He had asked. You told him it didn't matter, you were done with the job you could leave now. You didn't want to admit you were frightened to find out. He smirked knowingly. He turned towards you and took a single step back into the darkness. "It's fine Dick, nothing to be scared of." You remember him saying.

"-immons?"

"- wrong with him?"

You remember meeting the eyes in the darkness, their cold hungry stare burning into your mind. The horror on the other boys face when he realized he wasn't alone. You remember the screaming when he was pulled into the darkness as you stood too frightened to move. It wasn't until a single hand, covered in black paint, emerged from the shadows that you remembered to breathe. Remembered to run.

Something grabs you. You stumble back in a moment of panic. You don't get far.

"Calm down." Grif has a tight grip on your arm. You nearly collapse with relief. He holds you upright.

You realize someone has a light shining straight into your eyes. You squint. "What?" You mumble. You feel a little dizzy.

"Dude, what the fuck was that?" Tucker asks. The light points away from you and towards the ground.

"What?" You ask again. You aren't sure what just happened. You don't know where those memories came from. You aren't sure you want to.

"You checked out on us, stopped breathing." Grif tells you.

Oh. "Now would be a bad time to tell you I'm afraid of the dark right?" You whisper.

"Christ, between you and Grif's fear of bat's we're never going to get the fuck out of here are we? Next thing you're gonna tell me is that you're afraid of snakes!" Tucker throws up his hands.

You are afraid of snakes, you've seen some of those little bastards with two heads take a man down in under a minute. Now might be a bad time to bring that up.

"Now that he's fine can we go?" Tucker sighs.

Grif doesn't let go of your arm as you three walk through the tunnel. Junior went on ahead to meet with Wash. A few times Grif startles when he thinks he hears a bat somewhere. Once even going so far as to claim dripping water was one of the little creatures.

"Bat's don't drip." You tell him. You're trying to be comforting.

"Bat water." He whispers back.

You can't even think of a rebuttal to that ridiculous suggestion. "There are no bat's!" You hiss.

He nudges you. "You don't know that, what if you're wrong?"

You nudge him back. "Okay, let's assume I'm wrong. Let's assume there are bats. So what? What can a five ounce flying rodent possibly do?" This was the most ridiculous conversation you've ever had.

He's silent for a few minutes. You think he might have actually thought about it. "...So what you're saying is, you think there are bats?"

A noise of frustration works it's way from the back of your throat.

"Shut Up!" Tucker snaps. You quickly realize you guy's are at the entrance to the tunnel. That whole conversation had been a distraction. Well... you aren't sure how to feel about that. Grateful maybe?

"Shhh!" Grif suddenly hisses. He pulls you into a crouch with him. Tucker follows suit. A voice you don't know is yelling. The three of you creep towards the entrance. A war boy is standing in front of the Jeep. Wash is on his knees with his hands behind his head. Junior is standing next to him, he's glaring.

"Tell me where the traitor is!" The war boy is demanding. "Or I'll shoot the little mute!" The man is aiming his gun at Tucker's son. "Give ya to the count of three. One... Two..." The man cocks the gun.

You don't hear the countdown. Not really. The weight of your gun rests against your hip.


	4. CoW's for the tramatized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is second to last chapter i have written up.

Why wasn't Wash doing anything!? Your mind screamed. You left your gun in the jeep like an idiot and Tucker usually only carries a knife. The man is counting down now. You stand, ready to lunge at the guy. Tucker tries but you shove him into the dirt. You don't have a kid to raise anymore, your sister is already taking care of herself.

"Two..." The man count's. He cocks the gun points right at Juniors head. You take half a step forward when the gunshot echoes through the canyon. You watch as the man pointing the gun at Junior collapses forward. You aren't completely sure what's just happened. You tick people off in your head. Tucker's in the dirt. Wash is on his knees. Junior most definitely doesn't have a gun. And you're pretty sure it wasn't you who just fired a gun you don't even have. That just left-

"Simmons?" Tucker says gently. You look over at the guy and find that he's staring down at the gun in his hands.

"You okay?" You ask. It seems to release Simmons from whatever state he's in. He looks up at you with the most horrified expression. You almost want to laugh at the innocence in it. You don't, but it's a close call. He doesn't say anything. Just continues to stare past you now. You step up to him, in case he has another panic attack and tries to run away. "Dude?"

"I killed him." He says, his voice is flat. You almost feel like giving him a hug. You don't, but it's another close call. He doesn't say anything after that. He let's you lead him to the jeep and he climbs into the passengers seat, his whole body is shaking. Tucker and Junior pile into the back seat. Wash joins a moment later.

"Carolina said we should head to Riverrock, says she has a contact there. Your sister might be there." He tacks on. You doubt it, but you have little choice on what you want to do now.

"Alright, here we go." You mutter and hit the gas. You wish you could have stayed at least a night at Tuckers before this shit went down.

None of you talk about what just happened. An unspoken agreement for Simmons sake. You know Tucker's trying to think of a way to repay the kid. You doubt Simmons will even realize Tucker feels this way. 

You're on the road over less than three hours before you hear Simmons giggle. You're thrown for a second. One) You've never heard Simmons giggle. Two) It's kinda cute. Like really cute. Holy shit. Three) You can't even begin to imagine why Simmons would be laughing. You know it's weirding out two of the three in the backseat.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You ask, because you really hope Simmons hasn't lost his mind. That would kind of suck.

He looks at you and his giggles turn to soft laughter. "I just realized that the acronym for City of War-" He laughs harder. "It's CoW."

Okay you can see how that would be funny. You look over at him as he loses it in the passengers seat. His entire body is shaking. Laughter looks a lot better than anything else that's made him shake so far. You can't help but start laughing with him.

"What the fuck are you two so happy about?" Tucker asks from the backseat.

All you manage to say through your laughter is the word "CoW." before you're laughing harder. Simmons entire face is flushed red as he tries to get control over his laughter.

"Wow, sorry I asked." Tucker leans back in his seat.

You spend the rest of the hour sharing the dumbest jokes you can think of with Simmons and watching him laugh until he can't breathe. You like watching him grip the dashboard in an attempt to catch his breath. He tell's you to shut up so many times you can no longer count them all. You hear Tucker ask Wash to shoot him in the face before he has to hear another fucking joke and Simmons starts laughing all over again.

"Can you see Carolina and Church yet?" Wash asks. Anything to stop the flood of awful knock knock jokes spewing from your mouth.

"Yeah, they're ahead of us." You answer him. Carolinas dull green jeep his fifty feet in front of you. Just as you point it out the thing starts to swerve and skid to a stop. "Fucking shit." You sigh. So much for your good mood. Why was it always's like this? You pump more gas and come to a stop next to them just as Carolina is kicking open her door and climbing into the sand. You can hear Wash climb out and you follow. Stupid fucking drama, all the fucking time.

"What's happening?" You hear Wash ask.

Before you get an answer Carolina is ripping the tarp off the back of the jeep. A large boy with big pale violet eyes stares back at you.

"Hello." He says.

"Who the fuck are you?" Carolina demands.

"Oh I am-"

"Caboose?" Simmons voice comes from behind you. He followed you out of the jeep. You really should tell him what an awful idea that can be.

The boy in the jeep brightens up. Before you know what's going on the kid is out of the jeep and bounding past you, wrapping Simmons in a bear hug that lifts him off the ground. "Books! I missed you! When you didn't come in for work I got so worried, I know how the heat can make you sick so I went looking for you at your house but there were a lot of people there and they were yelling and then dad said we had to go find you cause someone stole you away!" He paused and lowers his voice. "It wasn't these people right?" He asks very seriously. "They seem very mean. The angry one keeps glaring at me." He stage whispers and gives Carolina a guarded look.

"No, Caboose they didn't steal me." Simmons says, trying to pry himself from the giants arms. "They helped me."

"Oh in that that case you are all very nice, but we need to leave now." He starts to carry Simmons away. You can feel panic hit you.

"Caboose wait!" Simmons yells. He makes it three steps before there was at least four guns aimed at him. One of which is yours.

Caboose freezes in place. Simmons still held in his arms. "What? Did I do something not good?" He asks. You're pretty sure this kids an idiot.

"Caboose I can't go back." Simmons try's to explain.

"Why? Is it 'cause you are in trouble? Dad said he'd be nice as long as I bring you home in one piece." He says with a frown. Like that was the problem with this whole situation.

"What did your mom say?" Simmons asks. He sounds desperate. You wonder who the fuck this kid's parents are.

Caboose hums to himself. "Yeah...She told me that if I left I shouldn't go back."

"And who should you listen to?" Simmons coaches.

Caboose lets out a put upon sigh. "My mom."

Simmons nods frantically. "Good. So why don't you let me down, and we can talk. How does that sound?"

"Boring."Caboose huffs but set's Simmons down anyway. Simmons takes a few stumbling steps before you catch him. He mumbles his thanks and turns back to Caboose.

"Okay Caboose, why don't you tell me what happened."

"Well," Caboose starts. Taking a deep breath. "There was a lot of yelling at your house so I went to ask my dad what happened and he said that some bad men came and stole you, so then I asked if I could go rescue you, he said yes, and promised that if I brought you back you wouldn't be in trouble for leaving cause that's against the rules, and you told me that breaking the rules is bad. So then before I left I went to say goodbye to my mom and she said that if I left the city I shouldn't go back cause it's bad there. then when we got to the other place Sticky told me to hide in the back of the jeep and come out when he told me to. I fell asleep though, that wasn't my fault."

You only listened to half of the kid's rambling. But you picked up the gist of it. If Cabooses dad gave him permission to come get Simmons despite leaving being against the rules, there's only one person with that power. You remember the comment Simmons made about pretty much being a babysitter. "Oh holy fuck." It suddenly hits you. "Caboose's dad is the mad king."

"You're joking?" Wash asks, looking to Simmons.

Reluctantly Simmons nods.

"That settles it." Carolina says leveling her gun at Caboose's face.

"Wait!" Simmons yells ripping himself from your arm and stepping in front of Caboose. "Don't shoot him! He's an idiot, yes, and for the most part, harmless. It would be like shooting a child."

"What the fuck is going on out here?" A surly new voice demands.

"Hey Church." You wave lazily at him.

"Fuck off." He snaps. Turning back to the others. "Who the fuck are these two? Why the fuck is one of them painted up? And Why The Fuck Are We Still Sitting Here?!"

Oh right he hasn't met Simmons yet. "The short one is Simmons, the giant's name is-"

"He is not Simmons, he is Books. I chose the name myself." Caboose says proudly cutting you off. You stare blankly before busting up laughing.

"Oh! Oh my god!" You see Simmons turning bright red. "You got named by the biggest idiot in the wasteland!" Your laughter dies when your brain chimes in with the thought that being renamed just meant Simmons was in fact someone's property. "Holy shit." It cements it in your brain with uncomfortable finality.

"Shut the fuck up Grif, now isn't the time!" Simmons hisses. "Look Caboose, I can't go back, and neither can you if I'm not with you."

"But the rules-"

"I know Caboose, look i was wrong. Sometimes breaking the rules is okay, now we need to go before the others get here."

"He can ride with us." Carolina offers. "I have questions."

Simmons bites his lip and nods. "Just... Don't hurt him."

Caboose is eyeing up Church. When the shorter boy looks at him Cabooses smile brightens.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" Church hisses.

"You are so shiny." Caboose whispers, reaching out and patting his head.

Church stares at him blankly for a few seconds to process the words. "Fucking- Excuse you?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based Simmons reaction to a traumatizing event similar to my own reaction.
> 
> Once when i was around 16 me and three of my best friends nearly drown (thanks to some asshole i wont name but i hope he feels like shit about it till he's old) while floating the river.  
> We made it out okay, but i've never been back to the river and had nightmares about it a lot. I dealt with it by making jokes, and well i did drink like a sailor the first two nights after it happened. And it still sends me into a bad memory lane now and again, but by making jokes about it i was able to move on and cope. and that's what i was trying to show here. 
> 
> Simmons is trying to move past it the fact that he's just shot someone for the first time with humor, they didn't have alcohol handy.


	5. Memories or tragedies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is where i stopped. Cause i lost my muse and wasn't sure where to go from here.  
> So last chapter i guess?

You can't get it out of your head. The thought of having your name stripped from you. Your life taken away and governed by someone else. "What was it like?" You asks quietly. Hoping only Simmons can hear you.

He looks over and frowns. "What was what like?" He's leaning against the car on your right side, attempting to get warm enough to fall asleep in the desert air.

"Living in the city."

"Oh." You think he might not answer. He does. "It was okay, I was terrified constantly, but... I mean, it was better than where I was originally going." He shrugs. You've noticed he does that when he's talking about something uncomfortable.

You decide to push a bit. You want to get to know the person you've pretty much forfeited your life for. "Where were you going originally?"

"A place called Paradise." Your chest tightens. If CoW was bad then Paradise was a thousand times worse. A city of broken lives and ruined minds. "I've never really heard of it, but I figure if anyone in War is afraid of the place, it's not somewhere I want to go."

"How'd you end up in this situation anyway?" You ask. Dropping the subject of Paradise.

"I'm not sure. My earliest memories are waking up to Lopez attaching my arm. From what they told me, they found me wandering the sands delirious, missing an arm and talking about eyes in the darkness." He sorta pauses at the end, like he's looking at a memory. "It sounded like I was insane so I guess I'm glad I can't remember." He shrugs again. You can see how finding out you went insane in the desert would be something worth forgetting. "I stayed in the little town up north with them. I probably would have stayed for a lot longer..." He trails off. Looking at the fire Wash had built a few hours ago.

"What happened?" You find yourself asking. Curiosity getting the better of you. You've given up telling yourself that it's not your problem.

Simmons let's out a sigh. "I woke up one morning and the whole town was on fire. A raiding party had shown up looking for... well... you know." You do know. It's pretty common. "I found Donut near the house and Lopez in his shop, they'd been shot. Before I could do anything for them I was being thrown into a truck. I was in that truck for I don't know how many days. It felt like losing my memories all over again. Then one night there was an explosion, and the truck stopped. Next thing I know Sarge is there pulling me out and ordering me into his own. Me and the other's just did as we were told. When we got to the city he offered to make me a war boy instead of sending me off with the others."

It's fucked up, and you know Simmons knows it. The other's were being sent off to god knows where. You can't really blame Simmons for taking the easier choice. "I was promoted to official record keeper after Caboose found out I could read and write. After that I wasn't allowed to really go anywhere on my own. So... I guess I haven't really belonged to myself since I woke up on Lopez's table."

You're both silent after that. You have nothing to say as you mull over what he's told you. After a while you feel something fall against you. You find Simmons snoring softly into your shoulder.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into Dexter Grif?


End file.
